I hate cats.

For a while, I’ve thought it was a genetic thing. My dad’s supposedly allergic to them (but he says that about cinnamon too, and that’s just blatantly untrue.. Dave will no doubt make a parallel, either on blog or off, that the same is true of my lactose intolerance, but we’ve already had that debate, and i won’t rehash it here). Maybe my dad’s “hate-cats” trait was passed on to me.

The more I think about it, my disdain of felines can be traced to one event: when i was nine years old, i tried to play with my neighbor’s cat, and it bit me. it was an hornery cat. they were hornery neighbors.

It’s scary how childhood is a punctuated equilibrium, how life-changing moments happen without you knowing that they are life-changing (i guess that doesn’t only apply to childhood)..

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